


See You In My Dreams

by queenallydia



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Arrow AU, F/M, PTSD, slight war flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:22:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenallydia/pseuds/queenallydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Team Arrow beats Slade, Diggle starts to have problems dealing with an event from the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See You In My Dreams

_BOOM._

There’s dust everywhere, he can’t see. His eyes focus on Lyla crawling towards him. He remembers the exact moment when he heard the bomb go off, the exact moment when he realized both him and Lyla were the only survivors. John shakes himself from yet another nightmare from Afghanistan.

His eyes snap open and adjust to the bright lights of the foundry. He must have fallen asleep again. Oliver glances at Digg, with a worried expression written all over his face.

“You okay?” he says quietly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just keep replaying that moment over and over again. I can’t even sleep because of this.” Digg replies, though he doesn’t really believe he’s fine.

Oliver squints at him but accepts his answer. “You know, that was years ago, Digg. You need to let it go.”

“Yeah, says the guy who wouldn’t eat or sleep because of someone coming back from his past.”

Oliver snaps. “Slade became the present when he came to Starling City. He threatened my family, my friends, everyone I love. That is a different story.”

John presses his lips together in submission, not wanting to cause more trouble. He’s already in a weird mood from the dream.

Just then, Roy walks into the foundry, going on about some ‘punk who just couldn’t keep his hands off this girl.’ “Woah, someone hand me a knife cause there is too much tension in here,” Roy says as he stops and stares at the two men.

“I was just leaving,” Digg says as he brushes past Roy. Oliver sighs loudly, upset that he went off on John.

“What’s up with him?”

“He’s just been having a hard time, something keeps making him remember the bomb,” Oliver glances at the door, almost hoping Digg will walk back in and tell him it was all fun and games.

“Again? What was that, five years ago? Maybe more? Has he been talking to Lyla about this?” Roy is worried for his friend; he almost never acts this uncollected.

“I don’t know, Roy, I just don’t know.” Oliver breathes as he heads for the door.

“Roy, will you talk to him for me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

* * *

 

“Felicity, I don’t know what to do. Oliver won’t talk to me about this; Lyla wants me to go to a therapist. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I’d have to agree with Lyla,” Felicity states, talking into her bluetooth. She spins around in the chair in the foundry to face Oliver. “I know that’s not the ideal situation, but it’s probably the best. If Oliver, who could probably relate the most, won’t talk to you about this, then I don’t think anyone else will be of much help.”

“I know, I know, but therapist are just so… clinical.” Digg sighs, shaking his head in the driver’s seat of his car.

“You know what else is clinical? PTSD. You need something to match the extremity of your problems.” Felicity’s fingers brush over her keyboard.

“I hate that acronym, Felicity, I really do,” John groans, even though he knows Felicity is right.

“Yeah well war is not exactly unicorns and rainbows. Just go to a therapist once, for Lyla,” Felicity glances at Oliver, who is giving her a confused look. “Gotta go, but please listen to what she’s telling you.”

“Okay, okay I will,” Digg says, hanging up the phone.

* * *

 

On Felicity’s screen is a page on PTSD and how to support people dealing with it. “Oliver, it says here that you should be patient with him.”

“Yeah and it also says I should take care of my own issues before I can help him,” Oliver grumbles, still put off by the earlier events.

“I’m worried about him. Why won’t you just tell him you’re there for him?” Felicity stands up, facing Oliver.

“He- he brought up something I wasn’t quite fond of,” Oliver stares past her coldly.

“Yeah well you’re not fond of a whole lot when it comes to your past, so that’s kinda hard to avoid,” Felicity replies.

Oliver continues staring past her without recognition that she even spoke to him. He’s thinking about Slade again, how he wriggled his way into his home and family without him even knowing.

Felicity snaps her fingers in front of Oliver’s face. “Hellooooo, calling Captain Oliver from his trance!”

Oliver blinks and gives her a breathy smile. “Sorry, I just- I’m reminiscing on the past as well.”

Felicity gives him an upset look, “Well Oliver, you both need to work this out. He’s counting on you, you know. You’re like his brother.” She quickly pecks his cheek. “I love you, but you’re gonna have to talk to him soon.”

Oliver nods silently, knowing Felicity is right. He just has to find the right time.

* * *

 

Digg’s eyes wander over his surroundings. 1003. 1004. 1005. He looks down at the piece of paper with an address scribbled on it. 1006 Monument Place. He counts the buildings again until his finger settles upon one with the name ‘Simon Counseling.’

“It’s all for you Lyla, all for you,” Digg mutters as he steps out of the car. The sun shines brightly in his eyes. Ironic how it’s so beautiful out while I feel so shitty, Digg thinks to himself. He steps slowly towards the building in hopes that the steady movements will help calm his mind.

As he opens the door, he takes in the environment. Everything is… clean. Almost surprisingly clean. And very clinical. The man at the receptionist desk grins widely at Digg as he shows him the way to go. The woman’s office was about as opposite from the front desk as it could be. Sure, everything was neat, but it was incredibly homey. Probably on purpose, Digg thought. The walls were a warm beige color, but were covered with paintings and portraits and pictures. Some pictures seemed to be taken by a family member, while others looked professionally done. The desk was located next to a large window, the sunlight peeking through onto the cherry wood. A glint caught John’s eye. The nameplate read Dr. Amanda Waller.

The door creaked as a slender woman entered the room. Her burgundy eyes shone brightly, “Hi, you must be Mr. Diggle. I’m Amanda Waller. I specialize in veteran therapy here at Simon’s.” Digg gave her a once over. She is tall, but not taller than him. Her hair is neatly pulled back into a bun, giving her a strict look. However, her face gives her away. Her smile is so wide; he’s worried it will expand outside of her face.

“Call me John,” he responds gruffly. She doesn’t look too intimidating, but he’s still not sure about this whole therapy thing.

“Okay, John. I can sense you aren’t exactly happy to be here. Mind explaining why?”

Digg paused, trying to count all the reasons. He settles on one, “I’m not exactly too keen on sharing my deepest feelings with a stranger.” Amanda pauses, her eyes searching his.

“Well I can understand that. However, I’m not going to share these feelings with anyone, if that makes you feel better. I’m here to give you advice, not push you to do anything.”

John sighs and begins to talk, about the bomb about Oliver— though not too much— about everything. The words just slip out of his mouth until, an hour later, he seems to have run out of words.

“Well, John, I’d say that was a fairly productive session. Wouldn’t you?”

Digg purses his lips, not wanting to admit he was wrong. “I suppose so.”

“Would you like to schedule another session next week, same time?”

“I’m going to sleep on it. I’ll keep that option in mind,” Digg responds, standing up and leaving the room. Transitioning from the homely room back to the stark white hall gave him chills. As he steps outside, Digg’s phone begins to buzz and play the generic phone tune. He hesitates, but presses accept. “Hi honey.”

“How did it go?” Lyla sounds quieter than usual, but John ignores it.

“Well. I just might schedule another session.”

“That’s great, Johnny. I’m glad you’ve found a way to vent about this. I know it’s been bugging you.”

“Yeah, I’m glad t-“ Digg replies but is cut off by the sound of gunshots. BAM. BAM. BAM.


End file.
